


The Last Time

by Sdktrs12



Category: Good Girls (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Childhood Friends, F/M, Friends to Lovers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-08-20
Updated: 2020-08-20
Packaged: 2021-03-06 20:40:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26015128
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sdktrs12/pseuds/Sdktrs12
Summary: It’s a happy accident, the way they meet at the park.His mother tells his older brother to take him out so she can get dinner ready before their father comes home. He puts up a bit of a fuss, grumbling as he goes, but once they’re out of eyesight and earshot, his brother is grinning, running after him down the sidewalk, pretending like he’s a monster chasing him.Her mother starts to go a little stir crazy, alone in the house with two little ones. So, she enlists her help in baking some cookies and then a cake and when they’ve run out of ingredients and the kitchen is a complete mess, her mother settles her little sister against her hip and grabs her small hand in hers, and she heads out the door.This particular park is new to the both of them.(wherein Beth and Rio meet as kids)
Relationships: Beth Boland/Dean Boland, Beth Boland/Rio
Comments: 34
Kudos: 210





	The Last Time

**Author's Note:**

> Random dialogue prompts #24 - 
> 
> “Gasp!” “ **You know, most people just gasp, they don’t audibly say ‘gasp’.** ” 
> 
> For @sothischickshe

( **Five Years Old** )

It’s a happy accident, the way they meet at the park.

His mother tells his older brother to take him out so she can get dinner ready before their father comes home. He puts up a bit of a fuss, grumbling as he goes, but once they’re out of eyesight and earshot, his brother is grinning, running after him down the sidewalk, pretending like he’s a monster chasing him.

Her mother starts to go a little stir crazy, alone in the house with two little ones. So, she enlists her help in baking some cookies and then a cake and when they’ve run out of ingredients and the kitchen is a complete mess, her mother settles her little sister against her hip and grabs her small hand in hers, and she heads out the door. 

This particular park is new to the both of them. 

His brother decides to walk just that little bit farther, past the smaller and quieter playground they normally frequent, to the bigger and busier park a few streets down. He’s seen a few kids from school hanging around it on his walks home. 

Her mother decides to drive just that little bit further, bypassing the enclosed, almost claustrophobic, shopping mall that she’d originally planned on in favor of the wide open space of the park that catches her eye on the way. 

He immediately runs off toward the playground, big brother slowly trailing behind him. He climbs the steps to the slide and looks back over his shoulder, making sure his brother is still there. He is, of course, settling onto one of the old rickety picnic table benches, and he turns back toward the slide, sufficiently reassured.

She waits patiently for her mother to unpack all the essentials from the car, hanging on tightly to the water bottle and snacks she hands her. She’s in charge of those and it’s a job she takes very seriously. Her little legs work fast to keep up with her moms quick stride. She settles onto one of the park benches, giant diaper bag set down beside her, and she brings her little sister up onto her lap, finally waving at her to go play. She takes tentative little steps toward the playground, glancing back over her shoulder, where her mom is handing her little sister a toy. 

When she turns back around, she spots him at the slides, watches him curiously as he goes down, head thrown back in laughter as he does. He jumps off when he reaches the bottom, freezing when he sees her watching him. She thinks about turning around and running back to her mom, but then he’s grinning at her, waving her over as he runs back toward the steps and her little legs are moving, excitement building up in her chest as she reaches him and he steps aside to let her go down the slide next. 

They run around together, playing tag and pirates and house, neither one of them noticing the older boys on the outskirts of the park that his brother eyes wearily or the way the other mothers whisper and stare at her mother as she struggles with her little sister. 

The next week, his brother takes him back to the smaller playground and her mother takes her and her little sister for a long walk instead, and they both sulk, wanting to go back to the bigger park and play together. They whine and pout until they give in and take them back. 

He catches glimpses of his brother and the older boys, who have started to come over more and more every time they visit the park. His brother seems nervous around them and it makes him feel scared, but the one time he’d decided to be brave and go over to tell them to leave him alone, his brother shook his head no, lecturing him on staying away when the older boys were around on their walk home. 

She notices her mother becoming more and more frazzled, forgetting things like their snacks and waters when they come to the park. One time forgetting the entire diaper bag, even as she had tugged on her shirt and tried to point it out before they left. Her mother brushes her off more and more and she’s learned to scoot the dining room chair over to the pantry to sneak loose snacks into her pockets before they leave the house, using the water fountain at the park instead because the water bottles from home won’t fit in any pockets. 

His brother starts arguing more and more with their mother, and it sounds a lot like it’s about the boys at the park and his brother starts going back to the park by himself late at night and it's one of those nights that he decides to sneak out and follow him, heart pounding in his little chest, trying to be brave as the streetlights cast dark shadows all around him. His older brother catches him on the outskirts of the park and he kneels down in front of him, telling him to _never_ follow him again, not like _this_ , not to _this_ kind of place, to go straight back home, you remember the way, yeah? And it confuses and scares him, but he does as he’s told. 

He never sees his brother again. 

She doesn’t see him when they go to the park next and it makes her sad, but she’s got to look after her little sister anyway, because her mom looks lost a lot lately and she’s started to let her little sister toddle off on her own and now that’s part of her job, just like snacks. Only then her mom’s crying too and she can’t figure out why, but she knows people are starting to stare, and it’s making her stomach hurt, so she gets her little sister and she grabs her mother's hand and they go back to the car, but they don’t leave right away. Her mom just sits quietly in the front seat for a while, staring out the window.

Her mother doesn’t take them back to that park again. 

( **Ten Years Old** )

She tells Annie to go home, her normally soft voice firm. Or, as firm as any ten year old can be. Annie’s eyes widen for a moment at the serious look on her face, the hard set line of her mouth and she nods, a little shaky. Annie peeks around her to shoot one more glare at the older boy that’s been bullying her, twisted grin still on his stupid mean face, and then she whirls around, stomping off. 

She breathes in deeply, slowly counting in her head, mimicking the exercise she’s seen her mother use, as she thinks carefully about what she wants to do next. 

But then the older boy is yelling after Annie about running home to cry to their mother…

And something inside of her _snaps_. 

Because Annie won’t be going home to cry to their mother. Annie will wait until _she_ gets home and she’ll cry to _her_. And _she’s_ going to fix it just like _she_ always does. 

And _that_ does it. It was bad enough that he’d been teasing Annie mercilessly about pretending she could fly, but now— 

Before she can even fully register what’s happening, she feels her arm lifting up, the arm she’s holding her heavy book laden backpack in, and she’s swinging around, bringing the bag up and out with as much strength as she can muster, connecting solidly with the older boys side, knocking him right to the ground. 

The momentum from the heavy bag swings her little body back around to face away from him and she freezes, a bit stunned by her own violence. 

But then she hears some commotion from the other side of the park and she glances back over her shoulder, first to see Danny still laid out on the ground, blinking wildly up at the sky, clearly dazed, and then across the park pathway they’d been walking down, toward a small group of approaching kids, their faces cautiously curious. 

She doesn’t bother sticking around, just takes off running, leaving the pathway to cut through the park. 

It’s getting dark, her and Annie out late again, prolonging going home to the inevitable and unbearable silence and tension that stretches out between their mom and dad these days. 

So, between the setting sun and her looking back over her shoulder to make sure no one is following, it shouldn’t be a huge surprise that she runs smack dab into a low hanging metal pole that’s broken off the top of one of the slides. 

She goes down, hard, dropping her bag, arm coming out to try and break her fall. 

She says a cuss word, a bad one, one she’s heard her mom use against her dad during one of their fights. 

And that’s when she hears a voice behind her asking if she’s okay and she whips her head around, searching for the source of the question. 

There, sitting on top of one of the old rickety picnic tables, is a boy about her age. 

And she...she squints, thinking hard, because he looks so familiar... 

He’s staring, just as amused as he is concerned and he’s shifted a little, half off the table, like he wants to come over and help her up, but he’s...uncertain. 

She assures him that she is _fine_ , but her voice wobbles and as soon as the words tumble out, she can feel the tears pricking the back of her eyelids. 

He clearly doesn’t believe her anyway, because he slides the rest of the way off the table to make his way over, holding his hand out when he’s finally looming over her. 

He’s tall and lanky, all arms and legs, with dark close cropped hair and dark eyes that look entirely too serious for his age. 

They remind her of her own. The way teachers and other adults say she looks like an old soul— whatever that meant. 

He flexes his fingers as he impatiently gestures for her to take his hand, and she glares up at him. 

She pointedly ignores his outstretched hand, pushing herself up on her own, blinking back the tears that come with the movement, the sharp pain in her forehead. 

He sighs as he takes his hoodie off and she’s confused for a moment when he offers it to her. He gestures to her forehead and she brings her hand up to swipe at it and her fingertips are smeared a bright red when she pulls them away. 

She looks over at him, hesitant to take his hoodie, because gross, why would he be okay with blood on his clothes, but then he waves it impatiently in her face and she glares as she finally snatches it out of his hand. 

_Fine_. 

He steps back, shoving his hands into his pockets as he kicks at the dirt underneath his shoes, bouncing a little on his feet and she wonders if he’s cold now and almost gives the hoodie right back. 

And she _knows_ him, she _does_ , and she says as much out loud, as she tries to remember—

And then she does—the little boy she used to run around with at the playground a long time ago. Back when her mom actually took them to the park. Before she’d...

But he’d never come back and she’d never seen him again.

He nods, looking away and she watches him carefully, wanting to ask him where he went, but she doesn’t. 

Not yet. 

She uses one of the sleeves of the hoodie to gently wipe at the blood before pressing it against her forehead for a minute, until she’s sure the bleeding has stopped. 

When she’s done, she folds the hoodie up carefully, tucking the bloody part neatly inside, before handing it back to him. 

He tells her he saw everything that happened, including her knocking the older boy down and she feels her cheeks burn with embarrassment. She lifts her chin, defiant as she defends her actions and she doesn’t expect it when he agrees with her, even encouraging her to kick him next time. She giggles before she can help it and he smiles back at her. 

She turns serious as she scans the area, noting just how very much alone the two of them are in this section of the park. She quickly swears him to secrecy about the whole thing, can barely even stand the thought that _he’s_ seen her like this. 

His mouth drops open slightly at her demand and she thinks maybe she should’ve kept her mouth shut, (who is she to be making demands of some random boy in the park at night?), but then he’s nodding slowly and she feels emboldened by his agreement, reiterating her need for his absolute and complete silence by demanding a pledge, in the form of a pinky promise. 

He bulks at that, shaking his head vehemently and she’s shocked that he’s denying her this. She stomps her foot a little as she pouts and he grimaces and then rolls his eyes as he steps closer, reluctantly stretching his hand out again and she regards him suspiciously at first, wary that he’ll take his hand back at the last second, but he _doesn’t_ , and she smiles as she links her pinky with his. 

That’s when she decides to ask what happened to him, pinkies still linked, and he pulls his hand away, shoving them into his pockets as he kicks at the ground again, harder this time, when he tells her his brother died. 

She feels bad, her chest aching with sadness and she _never_ talks about it, but she finds herself offering up the fact that her mom’s been...sick, like some form of solidarity and they stand quietly for a moment, absorbing the others pain, and then she breaks the silence by asking his name. She can’t remember if she knew before. 

When he answers with “Rio”, it's too quick, his shoulders straightening, face tense when he says it and she rolls her eyes because that’s not the truth. Or at least, only half anyway. 

She demands to know his _real_ name and he just stares at her for a minute, and that’s okay, she’s good at this game, so she just stares right back. 

He finally lets out a sigh before answering with “Christopher.” quickly clarifying that _no one_ calls him that. She opens her mouth to ask _why_ , but he cuts her off, asking her _her_ name.

“Beth.” comes out easily enough, but he turns her last question around on her, teasing as he demands her _real_ name. 

She rolls her eyes again but ends up giving him her full name of “Elizabeth.” anyway, following it up quickly with _his_ last statement, teasing as she tells him _no one_ calls her that. 

When he says “I do.” it’s so quiet she thinks she must imagine it. 

( **Fifteen Years Old** )

He runs with a completely different crowd than her, but that doesn’t keep them apart. She lectures him about staying in school, making sure he shows up every day, even if he doesn’t stay the whole time. And after her continued insistence (and a little bit of blackmail), he finally teaches her some tricks of _his_ trade, like how to hot wire a car and hustle dime bags. 

Her dad finally splits, leaving her to figure out how to raise Annie and care for their mother basically on her own. Her pride causes her to distance herself from him involuntarily. 

His dad dies and he finds himself becoming deeply entangled with the same gang his brother had. When he realizes just how dangerous it is, he does the same—distancing himself from her to keep her safe. 

( **Eighteen Years Old** ) 

Beth sniffs as she sinks down the hotel wall to the floor. This was shaping up to be one of the worst nights of her life and she didn’t even have an escape plan, just had to ride it out until the miserable end. 

When Dean had asked her to prom, she’d been reluctant at first. 

Even though they’d been casually seeing each other for the past six months, she was still hesitant to take that next big step with him in their relationship. He was older, more experienced, and she was wary about getting involved with anyone else after Scotty Harris had blown her off when she refused to let him get to second base. 

She had enough to worry about at home, let alone piling boy problems on top of that. 

And she definitely didn’t need any more problems—she needed _solutions_. 

But Dean had been super sweet and patient with her in the weeks leading up to prom and she’d eventually given in, actually letting herself get pretty excited when Ruby came over to help her with her hair and makeup, that excitement only growing when she finally slipped on her dress and she was ready to go. 

She’d even managed to get one of the neighbors to watch after Annie, so Beth wasn’t excessively worried about leaving her for a few hours. 

But her and Dean had barely been here for an hour before he’d plied her with alcohol that he’d snuck in and then ditched her, going off with a few of his football friends, offering no explanation except that he’d be back soon. 

She doesn’t even know how long he’s been gone for, just knows she had to get away from that table full of gossipy judgy girls he’d left her with. 

She stretches her bare legs out in front of her, plucking at the skirt of her floral dress, trying to keep her mind clear but occupied, if only on the random pattern and tulle there. Her eyes catch on her shoes, the converse she was wearing with her dress because of the bet she’d lost to Rio back when she’d first mentioned going to prom, and she smiles faintly as she crosses one ankle over the other. 

Dean had been annoyed when he’d noticed them and Beth thinks that’s exactly what Rio had been going for. He’d tried to talk her into changing into her heels before they left, but she had refused, the first and only time she’d stood her ground against him since they started seeing each other, and she thinks he was just shocked and surprised enough to let it go without any further argument. 

Beth glances around, squinting as her vision blurs a bit with the quick movement, wondering if Dean will even notice she’s gone whenever he decides to pop back up. She’s by herself, the long empty hallway stretching out on either side of her, the faint music and low murmur of classmates and chaperones pouring out from the ballroom in either direction. 

She’d texted Rio, but he hadn’t texted her back and she doesn’t even know if it’s still the right number, it feels like forever since she’s really _talked_ to him. She figures he’s probably out somewhere, maybe with...with Dylan. They’d started hooking up right around the time Beth had gotten together with Dean and...her chest tightens inexplicably as she pictures them together. At Rio ignoring her texts to be with _her_. 

She’d briefly considered calling Ruby, but she’d finally worked up the nerve to demand the guy she had a crush on, Stan, take her to the movies since Beth wasn’t able to go with her, and Stan had eagerly agreed. She didn’t want to interrupt their first date just because hers wasn’t going well. 

And that's what this _was_ right? They were _dating_ , right? 

Dean had been pretty insistent that he wasn’t persuing anyone else, that he was exclusively interested in her and she certainly hasn’t been seeing anyone else either.

He’s sweet and he seems to really care about her and he’s always trying to take care of things for her and he hasn’t pressured her into doing anything like Scotty had. 

But—she’s here, tipsy and _alone_ , in the middle of prom…

She tilts her head back against the wall, closing her eyes as she fights back the angry and frustrated tears that are welling up. 

So this is what dating was? 

“’Ey.” 

Beth blinks her eyes open and the first thing she sees are his shoes (chucks of course, just like hers) and it makes her smile as her eyes travel up, over his dark pants, up over his dark button up shirt, until she finally settles on his face. 

“Deja vu.” She comments, and he grins down at her, still all arms and legs. “You are very _very_ tall.” She observes, eyes glassy, head a bit wobbly, and his smile falters for a moment, and she can see he’s working out her current state of inebriation, before stepping around to sink down on the carpeted floor beside her. 

“What’re you doing here?” She asks, eyes scanning over him curiously as she leans into him. 

Dances weren’t something Rio ever came to. The after parties for sure, but the actual school functions? He’d rolled his eyes when she’d told him Dean had asked her to go to prom. 

“You texted.” He says simply, shrugging his shoulders and Beth can’t help the smile that pulls at her lips.

Right. 

“How much you had?” He asks and now it’s Beth’s turn to shrug, knowing it's pointless to lie to him. “Not much. Enough.”

Rio lets out a low sigh and shifts, bringing a knee up to rest his arm on and Beth watches him quietly, eyes catching and sticking on his ridiculously large hand and the way he flexes his long, thick fingers and, _god_ , Beth flushes as she tears her eyes away, focusing on the wall opposite them instead. 

“I thought you were with Dylan.” She says, voice quiet, and she doesn’t know _why_ she says it, but there it is, hanging heavy in the air between them. 

There’s a beat of silence and then he offers his own quiet response. “Nah.” 

She smiles again, fingers twisting into the sides of her dress, heart swelling in her chest almost painfully. 

“Thought you were with Dean.” Rio says and Beth snorts out a laugh because _of course_ he would go there. 

“Boys are dumb.” She says after a moment of silence and he laughs, head resting back against the wall and Beth nudges him with her shoulder. 

They’re both quiet for a moment, and she swallows thickly, pushing past all her insecurities and doubts to confess—”I don’t know what I’m doing here.”

And the silence that follows _that_ is almost just as painful, her skin flushing hot as she wishes she could take the words back— 

“He don’t deserve you.” 

She rolls her head to the side to look at him, but he keeps staring straight ahead and _god—_ he really is the only guy she thinks she’ll ever be able to trust. 

“C’mon, let’s ditch this lame shit.” He says, still not looking at her as he pushes himself up to stand, holding his hand out to her and she bites her lip, hesitating for just a second before taking it, letting him help pull her up, stumbling a little as he does, unsteady.

“Language.” She scolds, when she feels like she has her bearings again and he looks down at her and grins, so mischievous and boyish that her heart clenches and her hands itch to reach out and trail her fingers down the side of his face. She turns to look toward the entrance of the ballroom at the other end of the hall instead. “I don’t think...I should probably wait for Dean.” 

“Yeah? You think he’s waitin’ on you?” 

Beth looks back at him sharply and he’s glaring right back at her. “What is your problem?” 

He takes several deep breaths, jaw clenching, before shaking his head and letting out a quiet laugh. “Nothin’. C’mon, you look too good in that dress to waste out in some hotel hallway.” 

Beth feels herself flush, grinning despite herself. She looks down at her dress, fingers sliding over the tulle, rustling it. She shifts slightly on her feet as she looks up toward the doors again. 

She really should wait but…

God, hasn’t she waited enough? 

“I didn’t even get to dance.” She sighs, the words tumbling out of her before she can catch them, hold them back, and Rio stops, confusion etched across his features as he slowly blinks at her. 

“Dean didn’t—we didn’t really...” She trails off awkwardly, nibbling at her lip again as she clasps her hands together in front of her, swaying a little on her feet. And really, it was a stupid thing to say, she doesn’t even dance, and she shouldn’t be surprised by the silence that follows, he’s probably wondering what the hell she’s even talking about— 

“I aint dancin’ in there.” 

Beth’s head jerks up at the proclamation, and— _okay._

That’s not really what she’d meant by that, at least not _exactly_ , and well, honestly she’s not surprised by his answer, almost _relieved_ by it, ready to just move on past that particular point. 

“Okay.” She shrugs her shoulder, trying to act as nonchalant and unbothered as possible, and she starts to move away, slowly, because she’d rather not trip over her own two feet in front of him, but he grabs her wrist, stopping her. 

“Said, I aint dancing in _there._ ” He clarifies, pulling her into him suddenly, catching Beth off guard, and she stumbles a little again before righting herself, but his grip stays steady on her and— 

And—

_Oh_. 

Beth lets out a breathless little laugh, feeling stiff in his arms as his hands drop down to her waist and she tentatively places her hands on his shoulders. 

And it’s a bit awkward at first, they’re doing this half circle swaying movement and they step on each other's toes more than once, but then... 

Then they get the hang of it and it feels... 

It feels _good_. 

Beth melts into him, letting her head rest against his shoulder and she closes her eyes, letting the music spilling out into the hallway flow over her and it’s not even a slow song but she doesn’t even care, as she lets herself just...breathe him in.

He’s so warm and steady and she rubs her face slightly against his shirt before turning her head, her hand sliding up around the back of his neck, fingers grazing over his skin. 

She feels his breath hitch and her hold on him tightens and she stretches up to nuzzle into his neck, because god, he just feels so _safe_ and _good_ right now. 

“Elizabeth.” 

The soft deep rumble of her name in his chest when he says it makes her shiver and when she doesn’t answer him right away, he gives her hips a quick squeeze and she sighs as she reluctantly lifts her head.

And that’s when she sees it. 

The small reddish purple bruise on the side of his neck. 

Her eyes move up to lock on to his and she doesn’t think he knows that she’s seen it because he’s looking down at her with this overwhelmingly soft expression on his face and… 

God, had he _lied_ to her about being with Dylan? 

Had he been doing god knows what with her before coming here and...and _dancing_ like this with her?

_Get your shit together Beth_ , she quietly scolds herself, pulling back from him slightly and she ignores the confused look on his face as she drops her hands. 

They’re just _friends_. 

Beth carefully untangles herself from his grasp and Rio’s lips part and she knows he’s going to ask her what the hell is _wrong_ with her and really, she does _not_ know the answer to that right now, but then she hears her name being called and she looks over to the left and sees Dean at the end of the hallway, his football friends heading through the double doors as he switches course, striding down the hallway toward her instead. 

Beth quickly glances at Rio, who is still looking at her, and then just as quickly looks away. 

“Hey, babe, what’re you doing out here?” Dean asks, pulling her into him as soon as he gets close enough. 

“I just...I needed some air.” Beth says lamely, trying to ignore the way she can still feel Rio’s gaze piercing through her. 

“Alright, well the guys and I got some rooms upstairs for after the dance. Gonna be a killer party.” He’s excited, eyes glassy, big goofy grin on his face, and Beth wonders just how drunk _he_ is. 

“Elizabeth.” 

They both turn to look at Rio, hands clasped behind his back, body rigid, and she knows he’s pissed off, can feel the way he’s practically vibrating with it. He cocks his head to the side, an unspoken question there, the look in those deep dark eyes too overwhelming. 

“Hey man, thanks for keeping her company.” Dean says from beside her, and Rio’s eyes flick to him for just the briefest of moments and it’s like a switch, the absolute hostility that replaces the...the fondness that had just been there for her. 

But Dean’s too oblivious, too drunk perhaps, to catch it, pulling on Beth’s waist as he turns away, tugging her down the hallway, back toward prom and Beth wants to pull away, wants to...wants to _stay_ , but she’s already obviously interrupted whatever Rio had going on with Dylan and he has _her_ to get back to…

Right? 

She looks back over her shoulder at him one last time, as he watches her go, before she disappears through the set of doors and into the crowd. 

( **Now** ) 

Beth pushes her way through the crowded bar, spotting an open high back stool at the bar and quickly making a beeline for it. 

“Excuse me, is this seat taken?” She thinks to ask the guy in the next stool, who shakes his head and gestures for her to go ahead. 

She settles into the seat, glancing around quickly, before trying to catch the eye of the bartender. 

It’s obviously busy tonight, so she’s rushing around and Beth sits back, sympathetic. She desperately needs a drink, but she can be patient. 

“Hi.” 

Beth turns her head to the left, the deep rumbled greeting from the guy next to her catching her a bit off guard. She hadn’t expected that. He’s pretty cute, with dark hair and dark eyes and an insanely muscular body, and her thoughts briefly travel to a dirty place before she shakes herself out of it, clearing her throat as she wills herself not to blush. 

“Hi!” She responds, giving him a polite smile before turning away, tapping her phone screen on to check the time before glancing around again. 

“Waiting for someone?” The guy asks and Beth turns to see him still looking at her and she flushes a little, hands sinking down to clasp together in her lap, fingers flexing nervously. 

“I am! An old friend.” She explains, hoping maybe that’ll clue him in. 

“Name’s Adam.” He continues cheerfully, gesturing to himself and—okay, so he’s not going to give up so easily. 

And it would be rude not to introduce herself now, right? 

“Beth.” She answers after a moment and his smile broadens, eyes crinkling around the edges, and really, he _is_ incredibly cute... 

“Can I buy you a drink?” He asks and Beth returns his smile, almost feeling bad that he’s decided to try to pick _her_ up tonight, unaware of what a lost cause _that_ particular venture unfortunately is. 

She opens her mouth to politely decline, but is suddenly jostled from her other side, hard enough that she bumps into the guy trying to buy her a drink-- _Adam_ , and her hand comes up to grasp at the edge of the bar top as she pushes away from him and straightens back up in her chair. “I am so sorry.” 

“No, no, not your fault.” He says, glaring at the person behind her and Beth turns to glare too. 

The first thing she notices is the giant tattoo spread out across his neck. 

The second thing are his eyes, which immediately drop down to thoroughly scan over her body and Beth shifts in her seat as she tries to discreetly readjust her top. 

He notices, _of course_ , a tiny smirk forming on his lips, and Beth scowls. 

“Hey buddy, mind watching where you’re going?” Adam bristles from behind her, but _he_ doesn’t even flinch, his attention still solely on Beth. 

“Sorry bout that. Lemme buy you a drink, make amends.” His voice is low and husky and Beth bites her lip as her eyes drop, giving him the same once over he’d just given her. 

He’s got on a black t-shirt and black jeans, both fitted to his lean, hard body and Beth smiles as her eyes dart back up, scanning over his sharp cheekbones and lush bottom lip. 

“I’ve got that covered man, but thanks.” Adam interjects once again and Beth can’t help the grin that spreads out across her face at the look of mild annoyance that crosses _his_ face as he continues to ignore him. 

“So, what’s your poison?” He asks and Beth hears Adam scoff, feels him shift behind her, leaning around her, like he’s gearing up for a fight. 

“How about,” Beth starts coyly, as she settles back into her seat, looking from one guy to the other, “whoever can guess my drink, can buy it?” 

She may not be going home with either one of them tonight, but this should be a simple enough way to diffuse the situation, right? 

_He_ rolls his eyes, but Adam seems game, even opening his mouth to start, but _he_ cuts him off. “How bout a crisp chardonnay?” He says, grin pointed and sharkish, tone mocking. 

Adam snorts out a laugh and Beth can’t help the one that slips past her lips as she wrinkles her nose and shakes her head. “Not even close.” 

She turns to Adam, who grins as he leans in close. “A glass of rosé.” 

And—really? Beth laughs again, shaking her head as she finally catches the eye of the bartender who smiles and makes her way over. 

“Can we get a bourbon. On the rocks.” _He_ says before Beth can even open her mouth and she whips her head back around to look at him. 

“So, the chardonnay really was just you being a dick?” Beth asks and he huffs out a laugh as Adam says “You’ve _got_ to be kidding me.” 

The bartender brings her a glass of their top shelf bourbon and him a vodka and he readily pays for both. 

“So, what brings you in tonight?” He asks and Beth feels herself flush as she brings her glass up to her lips, closing her eyes briefly as the smooth liquid flows down her throat. 

“She’s waiting on a friend.” Adam answers for her, clearly very much annoyed, and Beth almost laughs at the absolute absurdity of this whole situation. 

“Think maybe she can talk for herself.” _He_ says, just as annoyed, and Beth does laugh then. 

“I am waiting on a friend.” She confirms, looking up at him and the corners of his mouth twitch up. 

“Not a very good friend, to leave you waitin’ long enough for a coupla strangers to hit you up.” 

“Well, I am a bit early.” She admits, checking the time again before glancing back around the bar. 

“Yeah, you look like one of those.” He says, drawing her attention back to him and she huffs out an incredulous laugh as she squints up at him, ready to demand an explanation as to just what the hell _that’s_ supposed to mean. 

“So, what’s your name?” He asks before she can say anything, and she realizes just how well he’s reading her, riling her up and then cutting her off before she can react. 

“Well, since you're so good with guessing...” She gestures out with her free while she takes another drink with her other and he grins down at her, clearly amused by her flippant attitude. 

“You look like an...Elizabeth.” He says and Beth raises an eyebrow as she slowly sets her drink back down. 

“It’s _Beth_.” Adam interjects from behind her, smug as hell, and jesus, she keeps forgetting he’s there. 

“Nah.” _He_ says, not even deeming to look at Adam, attention _still_ fixated on Beth. 

“No one calls me Elizabeth.” She says softly, ignoring Adam completely. 

“I do.” 

Beth sucks in a breath, biting at her lip, and his eyes drop down to her mouth. 

“Not gonna ask me my name?” He’s still looking at her mouth when he asks and Beth resists the urge to stick her tongue out. She turns away instead, taking another drink of bourbon, throat suddenly feeling very dry. 

“Nope. But please, tell me more about myself, since you seem to know me so well.” 

“Aight. You're a fucking terrible driver.” 

“Man, are you trying to blow this?” Adam taunts from her other side and Beth laughs again. 

“No, that’s true.” She agrees. “But still an _extremely_ sexist assumption.” 

“Not an assumption darlin’, saw you struggle with parkin’ out there when you came in.” 

“ _Gasp_! Have you been watching me?” She asks, bringing her hand up to press against her chest, acting scandalized. 

“Y’know, most people just gasp, they don’t actually _say_ it, darlin’.” He points out, grinning down at her and she waves her hand out dismissively. “Okay, what else?” She asks, leaning into him eagerly, wondering what he’ll come up with next. 

He chuckles, taking another drink from his glass, watching her closely over the rim. He cocks his head to the side and licks his lips when he’s done, eyes scanning over her face, like he’s trying to read every inch of her. “People underestimate you. You got more fight in you than they’d like to think.” 

Adam scoffs again. “What a line.” He mutters under his breath but Beth doesn’t even bother looking at him, feeling a little breathless as she gazes up at _him_ instead, wide eyed. “How would you know?” 

“This scar here,” His fingertips graze gently, the barest touch, just above her eyebrow, “you got after fightin’ Danny Sulliven for shit talkin’ your little sister. Gave ‘im a mean right hook and then ran into a broken metal bar on the playground. Knocked you right on your ass.” 

She gasps for real this time as she suddenly reaches up to shove at his shoulder. “You pinky promised you’d never tell anyone about that!” 

“Oh relax, Alex here aint gonna go round revealin’ your most embarrassin’ childhood memory, are ya Alex?” 

“It’s Adam.” Adam automatically corrects, realization slowly dawning. His eyes dart over to Beth and she winces at the pained expression on his face. “You're meeting—” 

“ _Rio_.” Rio helpfully provides, lifting his glass up, but Adam does not return the gesture. 

“Yes, I'm so sorry.” Beth confirms with a bashful smile. “Yeah, so sorry.” Rio mimics and Beth elbows him. 

Adam grabs his drink and gets up, moving away, and Rio huffs out a laugh as Beth turns to glare at him. 

“That was incredibly rude.” She scolds him. 

“You're early.” Rio shoots back, reiterating her previous statement, and then looks pointedly down at her hand. “An you’re not wearin’ your wedding ring. Are you tryin’ to get picked up?” 

“Turns out I needed a drink a lot sooner than I thought.” She replies with a slight shrug, acknowledging his first statement and completely ignoring his second. 

When she continues to offer no further explanation, instead taking another long drink, he huffs out a laugh as he rolls his shoulders back and she knows he’s not going to just let it go at that. 

“Oh yeah? What that dumbass husband o’ yours do this time?” 

Beth glares as she sets her drink down, harder than necessary, and he makes a half assed attempt to hide his smile by bringing his own glass up to his lips. 

“Language!” Beth scolds, but it comes out weak, even to her own ears. Her eyes dart down, eyebrows furrowing slightly as she focuses all her attention on the small marks and blemishes that mar the bar top—anything to avoid seeing the look on Rio’s face. 

“Pretty sure you just called me a dick a few minutes ago, ma.” 

Which—fair. 

But the way he says it soft, _gentle—_ it digs under her skin painfully, pulls sharply at the muscle and tendons, making her twitch. 

“This is new.” She observes, reaching up to touch the throat tattoo, trying to change the subject from her marriage. Her fingers skim over the wing span and she watches as he swallows, hard, the ink shifting with it. 

It’s been a few years since she’s seen him, but that’s par for the course for the two of them, the connection between them since that first pinky promise ebbing and flowing, but never breaking, no matter time or distance. 

(Years later, she’d ask him why he kept her secret and his response would simply be—“You scared the shit out of me, ma.”) 

They could never stay apart for long. Would always eventually, and readily, reconnect—that past familiarity falling easily back into place. 

They’d stayed close until... 

Well, until Rio started moving up in the crime world and Beth started settling into a domesticated life with Dean. 

Now, they’re connecting yet again but... 

Beth looks at him, _really_ looks at him, noticing the hard set to his jaw and the cold glint in his eyes. 

Maybe he’s having just as rough of a time as she is right now. 

Beth realizes she’s still touching him, fingers stroking lightly over the lines of his tattoo and he’s just...standing completely still, _letting her_. 

“What’s it for?” She asks, stilling her fingers, but not moving them away, actually presses them more firmly against the warm skin there, until she can feel his pulse jump. 

“Jus’ somethin’ I picked up...for this club I’m in.” He grins down at her, voice teasing, but his eyes still hold that dangerous glint in them. It’s a stark and unsettling contrast. 

Beth rolls her eyes as she lets her hand drop, settling back into her chair as she reaches for her drink. 

“Big commitment for a _club_.” 

“Oh baby, you jealous? Hopin’ I woulda got your name in ink?” 

“Oh please, spare me with the jealousy bit. I just think there are better...causes to be loyal to.” 

“Oh yeah? Maybe you should be havin’ this lil’ chat with the hubby.” 

Beth looks up sharply and he tilts his head as his eyes scan over her face, searching for...god knows what, but she turns away before he can hope to find it. “The _lil’ chat’s_ I have with my _hubby_ are none of your business.” 

She hates that he can read her like no one else. She hates that the carefully crafted lies she’s spun, the half truths and embellishments she’s used to rewrite her past, her _future_ , work on everyone else but him. 

“Yeah, they never have been, huh? You gonna tell me what’s really got you here early, lookin’ the way you do, without a ring on that finger?” 

“Looking the way I do?” She grins, delighted, feeling herself flush as she leans forward into his space, eyelashes fluttering a little as she looks up at him, hoping to distract him again. 

Hoping to distract herself. 

“Oh, we doin’ this tonight, huh?” 

“Doing _what_?” She asks innocently, finishing off her drink and waving at the bartender for another. 

She feels Rio shift closer and she turns, sucking in a sharp breath, almost choking on air, at just _how close_ he really is. She leans back, but he just moves in that much closer and her eyes dart back and forth over his face, trying to figure out what the hell he’s doing. 

“You know exactly how you look in them mama jeans and this—” He brings his hand up, fingers grazing over the vneck of her shirt, hooking into the lowest point, knuckles pressing roughly against soft skin and a tingle runs down her spine as her breath quickens. “–bitin’ on that mouth o’ yours, battin’ them big blue eyes.” He moves his hand, fingers tugging at her shirt as he withdraws them and Beth can’t seem to tear her eyes away from him, because he’s still so close, hasn’t moved his body back an inch, and– 

“Where’s your ring, Elizabeth?” 

“Why do you care, Christopher?” 

And she’s not sure where she was going with that exactly, only ever uses his full first name to tease or reprimand but this... 

_This is not that._

And his eyes grow impossibly darker as soon as the name slips past her lips, and his gaze drops down to her mouth and she _knows_ she’s playing a dangerous game here. 

_But so is he_. 

They’re trapped in this suspended moment, until the bartender comes up to replace Beth’s old drink with a fresh one—and then it’s broken. 

Beth feels on edge for the rest of the night, dodging questions about Dean, trying to worm information out of Rio about his _club_ , information that he seems unwilling to give. 

And she remembers... 

This is what forced them apart in the first place. What’s always gotten in between them. 

And _god_ , she’d just been so _eager_ to get back together with him—to sit down and be embraced by his familiar heat and smell and _touch_. 

She’d forgotten how good it felt. 

Especially after everything that had happened with Dean. 

She’s still kicking herself for ignoring all the signs, turning a blind eye to what had been there, right in front of her face, all along. 

And it’s almost... _devastating_ really, how much she actually _doesn’t_ really care about the cheating. 

How numb she is to the perfect little life she’s entrapped herself in. 

“I don’t know what I’m doing here.” She breathes out when there’s a lull in conversation, fingers tracing around the rim of her glass, eyes so focused on the amber liquid inside, she doesn’t even notice his hand reaching out, until his fingers are grazing down the side of her face, gently pushing her hair out of the way and tucking it behind her ear. 

“Aight, so let’s ditch this shithole.” 

And Beth laughs then, batting his hand away, because that’s _not_ what she meant and he knows it, and he grins down at her. “You _own_ this shithole.” She points out, bringing her glass up to finish off her drink and he shrugs that off, holding his hand out again when she sets her now empty glass down. “C’mon. We can go back to my place.” 

And she knows it’s just an offer from a _friend,_ somewhere she can go and decompress with someone she trusts, but her stomach still flutters at the words.

She ignores his hand, slowly bringing hers up instead, pinky extended, feeling _just_ drunk enough...

“Promise me…” She pauses, has to take a deep breath in before she can continue, “ _Promise me_ you won’t ever leave.” 

It hurts her chest to say it, almost choking on her words as she pushes them out. 

And they both know she’s saying so much more with those six words than she’ll ever be able to actually say out loud—about her dad, about her mom, about _Dean_. 

And he still makes a big production out of it, just like he had back then, but she can see it in his eyes—all the history they share, every laugh, every tear, every late night conversation and every unspoken word, every single steady hand he’s extended to her, helping lift her, helping _ground_ her. 

She feels it all when he links his pinky with hers, when she lifts her free hand to slide into the one he’s still holding out (just waiting for her), when he pulls her up and her body presses against his. 

She feels it all. 


End file.
